


It

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Ficlet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 09:19:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7527106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keenser gets a suitable pet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: fill for anon’s “Keenser getting a pet (i'm a total sucker for tribbles) [...] or Pavel having to take an Engineering lesson just from Keenser bc Scotty's sick or something” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Sometimes the tribble purrs, and sometimes it doesn’t do anything at all. It’s _perfect_.

Technically, it wasn’t for this—it was for testing, again, that illusive transwarp theory that Montgomery’s so brilliantly perfecting, but the captain’s been ‘cracking down’ on their ‘nonsense’—can’t have nonsense both on the bridge and in Engineering, as he puts it—so beaming the most unobtrusive life form they could find to and fro is off the schedule. Montgomery, retreating to his quarters with a bad cough he refuses to see Dr. McCoy for, said to get rid of them. So Keenser did.

He gave nineteen to Lieutenant Uhura, who discreetly stuffed them into her closet, and he kept one in the glass box on his desk that’s been empty up til now. He knew he wanted _some_ sort of pet, just not what. There were no pets on Royla that he would be allowed to have on the Enterprise. Montgomery gave suggestions—in between laughing at the idea of ‘an oyster’ having a pet—but human pets are too wild. Like humans. They require too much maintenance. Like humans. Tribbles require nothing, not even, technically, food, and it still sits there being curiously alive and companionable. 

With Montgomery not around to keep him busy, Keenser spends a good chunk of his shift just sitting at his table and staring at it. Every once in a while, the little tufts of fur that coat its entire body lift almost imperceptibly up, like exhaling or shuddering. Sometimes it makes a soothing noise. Mostly, it just sits there.

He likes it already.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to call it. Maybe Monty. Or wee oyster. Tribute to his favourite commander. Maybe Pavel. Tribute to his favourite ensign. Maybe whatever Kirk’s first name is. Now that he’s thought about it, he’s not entire sure what Captain Kirk’s first name is. He’s never paid much attention to it before. But the tribble’s hair is a darker shade than Captain Kirk’s, and it has more hair than Montgomery. It looks similar to Chekov’s. Maybe he’ll ask when Montgomery gets back if it’s the same ‘colour.’

The tribble hums for two seconds, then stops. Keenser decides it doesn’t need a name. Names are people things. They’re for beings that need to address each other. No one addresses and bothers tribbles. It’ll just get to _exist_ in his office, gloriously geometric and simple.

Something taps the door of his office. He waits to see if the tribble will react to the noise, but it doesn’t. He doesn’t know if tribbles are able to hear. Maybe they can’t, and sound is as strange a concept to it as the human idea of ‘colour’ is to him. Maybe it has no idea that it makes a pleasant purring noise now and again or any idea of anything at all. 

The knock comes again, loud, and Keenser begrudgingly decides he’ll have to answer like Montgomery would. So he slides out of his too-tall chair and wanders over to the door, looking up expectantly as the scanner takes a second examining him. When the door opens, Ensign Chekov stands on the other side, hand raised as though to knock again. He blinks down at Keenser in surprise.

Keenser looks back at him and waits. Most humans will tell him everything and more if he just waits. 

“Ah, I am sorry to bother you, Sir,” Chekov indeed starts, drawing up to tuck his arms rigidly behind his back. His face looks darker than usual—Montgomery says that happens when humans are embarrassed and blood fills their cheeks. “But it is time for my Engineering lesson, and Meester Scott said you would be able to instruct me...” He trails off, pausing, but Keenser’s still silent, so he adds, “If that is alright wizh you, of course.”

Humans are weird. They’re tall and gangly and distressingly fragile, and most of them talk too much with grating voices, and they don’t climb enough. But Chekov is always very respectful in Engineering, eager to learn, and treats Keenser with a sort of reverence that Keenser doesn’t understand but appreciates. So he does consider leaving his office, and turns back to look at his tribble and compare. Does he want to spend time with one attractive soft thing or another?

“What is that?” Chekov asks, likely following his gaze and noting the only not-hard-metal thing in Keenser’s office.

Keenser doesn’t answer, because Chekov is a smart thing and will figure it out, and Keenser likes to do one thing at a time. He comes to collect his fuzzy acquaintance out of the glass box and takes it back over, wanting to purr himself at how supple it feels. When he reaches Chekov, he lifts it up and grunts, “Hold.”

Chekov lowers his delicate hands and lets the tribble be deposited into them. He holds it carefully, as though he’s just been bestowed a renowned treasure. Keenser steps back to admire the view: one universally pure beauty in the hands of another. This is what he came to space for. 

Then he turns and walks around Chekov towards the nearest shuttle—he’ll teach Chekov how to climb onto the roof. It’s likely not on Montgomery’s lesson plan, but Keenser doesn’t know what is. 

Then he and Chekov and the tribble can sit and look about and just _be_.


End file.
